I Found Myself Within A

Reason Flies When Following The Senses, On Clipped Wings.

As, Pricked Out With Less And Greater Lights, Between The Poles Of The Universe, The Milky Way So Gleameth White As To Set Very Sages Questioning.

The Wisest Are The Most Annoyed At The Loss Of Time.

There Is In Hell A Place Stone-built Throughout, Called Malebolge, Of An Iron Hue, Like To The Wall That Circles It About.

The Customs And Fashions Of Men Change Like Leaves On The Bough, Some Of Which Go And Others Come.